


Unconventional

by TrinityEverett



Category: Castle
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrinityEverett/pseuds/TrinityEverett
Summary: Just like everything else in their relationship thus far, their wedding reception is less than traditional. But it's perfect. Posted for CastleFanficMonday.





	Unconventional

**Anonymous asked: In 7x07 Castle mentioned him and Beckett were planning to have a wedding reception could you write this? And maybe even include a cake cutting scene? Pleeease**

_Hi Anon! First, I want to apologize for taking so long to write this for you. Second, I hope you enjoy it in spite of the time it took!_

_Happy CastleFanficMonday! Just one more week of this crazy hiatus!_

**Unconventional  
** **A post 7x10 ficlet**

* * *

Just like everything else in their relationship thus far, their wedding reception is less than traditional.

With the holiday season approaching, they'd run out of options for venues, and neither of them had been willing to wait until the spring or later to make good on their promise of a celebration. Then, in a fit of late night genius, he'd had the idea to have the reception here, at home. At first they'd considered the rooftop of the building, but the weather hadn't been cooperative and they'd decided to move the party into the loft. He doesn't think his wife minds, though.

If anything, she probably prefers being in the comfort of their home, surrounded by their things, the proof of their life together. The life they've made for themselves, in spite of all the obstacles and mishaps they've experienced in the past year.

Plus, it's a damn good party, if he's allowed to say that about their joint hosting skills. Their friends and family seem to be having fun; conversation is flowing easily, never dropping below a dull roar he can hear from anywhere in the house. He hasn't spoken to his wife in nearly an hour – which he considers the only negative – but it's because she's been going from guest to guest, thanking them for coming, kissing cheeks and asking how they've been.

Kate Beckett is a natural at times like this. She puts people at ease, welcomes them with open arms, and makes them feel so damn important. He loves to watch her, revels in the gentleness of her smile as she listens to whatever their guests might be telling her.

She's extraordinary, she really is.

And she's making her way through the living room toward him.

"Hey." The joy of the evening has made her voice delicate, soft, and it's all he can do not to pull her against him and press his mouth to the rosy flush of her cheeks. "Brought you a drink," she adds, ducking her head to hide from his adoration.

"Thanks. Having fun?" he asks, taking the champagne flute from her fingers and giving in to the urge to hold her. His hand skims the delicate cream lace of her cocktail dress, curling around her hip to draw her near.

His wife – that'll never get old, he's sure – comes to him without protest, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders. Her lips lift upward, inviting him to trace their gentle curve with his own.

"Mhmm, you?" she whispers against his mouth, thumbing the back of his head.

"More fun now," he says, taking another taste of her lips as someone nearby taps their glass. Like he needs to be told twice to kiss his wife.

Beckett hums. "Never understood this tradition, but I like it."

He does, too. He most certainly does too.

His wife grins at his agreement, swaying along with the upbeat tempo coming from the entertainment system. Kate was in charge of the music for tonight, and she's chosen a delightful combination of their favorites, the typical party choices, and even a few lesser-played Christmas songs in celebration of the season.

"I was talking to Gates a few minutes ago," Kate starts when the song changes to something a bit slower, leaning her head on his shoulder. "She said she's still trying to convince the DA and the mayor to let you come back."

He sags a little bit, but doesn't break their rhythm. The last ten days have been busy, filled with holiday appearances to promote _Raging Heat_ , doing his Christmas shopping, even preparing for the party. Once the holiday is over, though, there will be nothing to distract from the fact that he's been kicked out of the precinct. For good.

"No such luck, huh?" he murmurs, turning his face into her hair, swallowing the bitter pill of disappointment. It's a happy night; he won't ruin it by wallowing over losing a part of their partnership. Not when they still have this.

His wife gives a quick head shake. "Not yet. She'll keep trying. I asked if I could put in a good word, but she said it wouldn't help. For obvious reasons."

Castle smiles, feeling the claws of melancholy retract from his heart. "Being crazy about me does make you biased, Beckett."

"Mmm, the keyword is crazy, I think."

He grumbles, but it's all part of the act and they both know it. Their particular brand of insanity is wonderful.

"I miss Weldon," he sighs. He hadn't needed his friend's influence in a long time, not for anything greater than a face-to-face meeting with a big wig here and there, but having it now would make life so much easier. Bob knows their history, what he and Beckett are capable of together; the new mayor doesn't really care.

Kate hums, slipping her fingers through his hair. "I know. Me too. But he did send a really large gift for tonight."

That makes him chuckle. "Silver linings, huh?"

"Yep," she pops her lips, nudging him into another kiss before lifting her champagne to her mouth. "I seem to remember the phrase 'who doesn't love presents'? Seems applicable here."

Castle grins, sipping his own drink. "The person who said that was wise. Handsome, too, I'd imagine."

She rolls her eyes, but he notices she doesn't deny it. How can she? It is a fact, after all.

"Come on, Castle, Beckett; snuggle later, cake now. Your guests are starving."

They snort as one. There's enough food at this party to feed a football team. Nobody is going hungry tonight.

But if Esposito wants cake, they'll cut the cake.

She pulls away, but doesn't go very far. Instead, Kate's hand slips into his, giving him a gentle tug over to the dessert table. It's piled high with their favorites – cupcakes and cookies, brownie bars and cheesecake bites – all surrounding the gorgeous cake. It's exactly the same as it would've been in May. The decorations aren't entirely fitting for Christmastime, but it's perfect anyway.

"Fine, Espo. But don't pretend you didn't demolish most of a platter of sandwiches alone," Kate drawls, taking the knife Alexis presents her. "Or the entire meal we served an hour ago."

The crowd chuckles, gathering in a half-circle around them. Their friend lifts a shoulder, unapologetic. "I didn't have lunch."

"Sure you didn't." Beckett rolls her eyes, taking a breath. "Okay, ah, should we just cut?"

They'd made their speeches already, thanking everyone for coming, and the boys had _finally_ been able to perform their song (which had been mortifying, but somehow still kind of sweet), so there isn't much left to do.

Castle speaks anyway, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Well, I know I already said a few words, but when has that ever stopped me from saying a few more?"

Beside him, Kate snickers, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "The answer is never," she supplies, giving his elbow an affectionate bump. The crowd around them rumbles with another wave of laughter.

" _Anyway_ , again, thank you for coming, and for sharing this with us. It has been one hell of a year, and more than anything, I am beyond grateful to be standing here with you, Kate."

His wife lifts into him, wrapping an arm around his neck. He feels her torso shake with her inhale and shuts his eyes against the emotion.

"Me, too," she husks, pressing her forehead to his cheek. Her lips ghost over the corner of his mouth, waiting until he presses back to pull away. "But don't think that means I'm going to let you smear cake on my face."

Rick smirks, covering her fingers on the handle of the knife. "Of course, dear. I wouldn't do that."

He does.


End file.
